Being an employee somewhere for the very first time in Celeste’s life was strange. It helped, though, that the place of business she found herself working at was owned by her romantic partner. It made the transition a lot easier, and Curiosities was more interesting than the average workplace.
When there were no customers and tasks had been attended to, the brunette perched herself on the stool behind the counter and leaned through one of the many books available. The one she was reading now was on classifying herbs and plants with healing properties.
For background noise, she had her playlist on, a collection of late 80s and early 90s rock. The Replacements’ ‘Rock N’ Roll Ghost’ filled the empty shop.
“Oh hey. Didn’t know you worked here too.”
The voice belonged to a very tired Phanuel, who’d spent the greater of eight hours trying to match sim cards to phones to chargers. She managed to get a dozen working but she didn’t understand the first thing about them, and decided she’d rather ‘gift’ Shimmer’s presents to the less fortunate. (How unlike the Angel.) Phanuel had heard that women fleeing domestic abuse often ended up in shelters with no possible means of communication to the outside world, and proposed that they could use a lift.
What was it Hutchins said? ’Get a phone or don’t. It’s up to you. I’m not sitting on my hands anymore.’ That must’ve been how Shimmer had heard. And her heart was in the right place, but clearly three sizes too big.
Phanuel dropped the bags at her feet, continuing to stand just inside the doorway.
“How much do you know about cell phones?” she asked.
Celeste looked up as the bell rang out, putting the book aside and getting ready to greet the new customer when she realized it was Phanuel. The afternoon Vegas sun blazed behind the Angel, framing her almost theatrically. It was the tiniest bit funny, made funnier by the fact that it was strange to see Phanuel out of the normal context of her trailer. The brunette smiled and slid off the stool, coming around the counter.
“I know about as much as any millennial, I guess? How to call, text, and Google stuff.” Her gaze dropped to the bags the Angel had set unceremoniously on the floor. An array of electronics and tangles of cord peeked through. “I also know you just need one, unless you’re a criminal or drug dealer.” Celeste didn’t add that she was once the former.
“Gift from Shimmer,” the Angel responded. “They were dumped outside my trailer. They were all, as far as I could tell, older models. I donated the ones that worked; these are going to the electronic dump.”
“Anyway, I need a hand. That’s a lie. I need a fucking millenial. Because even if I get a decent cell phone -- and fuck only knows what that would be -- I’d need to learn how to … do those things you mentioned.” Phanuel turned her open palms to Henry.
“I looked for you at the El Rey.” The Angel gave her a plaintive look. “Help?”
“Oh, okay.” The blast from the past cell phones suddenly made perfect sense. It was Shimmer’s doing. “So, first of all, good job on getting rid of these,” Celeste said, picking up a brick phone and examining it briefly. Of course she would help the Angel. It wasn’t even a question in the brunette’s mind.
She led Phanuel over to the counter and picked up her own device. “So, this is an iPhone. I mainly use it to look things up. I hardly ever call anyone. People mostly use text messages nowadays, which is like...an electronic telegram.” Celeste wasn’t sure what the extent of the Angel’s technical knowledge was.
“So I have to learn morse code.” It wasn’t even a question. Phanuel accepted it as fact. “I know ‘S.O.S.’; dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. But that seems kinda counter-intuitive. Wouldn’t it be easier to connect it to a typewriter?”
Celeste bit her lip to hide a grin. She opened her messaging app and showed Phanuel the on-screen keyboard. “It’s not morse code. This is kind of like a typewriter that you can carry around with you anywhere.” To demonstrate, she typed a message to herself. ’Hello, it’s me.’ Then she handed the phone to the Angel. “Here, you try. Use the tips of your fingers.”
Phanuel held the phone as if it would combust at any moment.
“’Hellll000 its meer p88han73l.’”
She handed the phone back to the brunette. “Lugging around a typewriter would be easier.”
The brunette examined the message. “Okay, good. Good first attempt. Let’s try something a little different.” Celeste stood next to Phanuel and pointed out a small microphone icon on the keyboard. “This does something called speech-to-text. You say your message out loud, and the phone turns it into typing for you.”
Her finger hovered over the key. “I’m going to press it, and you say something, and it’ll be translated onto the screen.” Celeste tapped it.
“That’s ridiculous. Nothing can translate… what… I’m…” The Angel marvelled as each word spoken appeared on screen. “Devil’s sorcery!”
“No, just Steve Jobs,” Celeste replied, ending the message. She put the phone down on the counter. “I could go to a store with you and help you find a phone of your own. They’re not all expensive. Well, not right now, obviously, because I’m working.” The brunette looked the Angel up and down.
“You’re looking better than the last time I saw you,” she remarked.
“I’d like that,” Phanuel replied. “Yeah, turns out those plants growing outside of my trailer were a gift from the Emissary. Kinda fucked with my mental and physical health. Oh, that reminds me. Hutchins said your spell went well?” As expected, the feathers had grown back.
Celeste paled a little bit. She had forgotten about the cuttings she had taken from outside Phanuel’s trailer. The last time she had looked at them, they had shriveled and dried up, and they went to the back of her mind, buried by everything else that had gone on in the intervening weeks.
“Uh, yeah,” she answered slowly. “I helped this vampire out. You know him, actually. His name is Derek.” The brunette made a mental note to check on the plastic bag containing the dead plants once she returned to the El Rey.
“He’s okay?” The concern in her voice surprised Phanuel. She’d only had brief interactions with Mitchell but clearly he’d made an impact. Actually, it seemed a few people were worming their way into the Angel’s circle of concern. “He and Penny gifted me with Sammy, my pink flamingo lawn ornament.”
The brunette nodded, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, I talked to Penny the other day. She said he’s doing good. But he was looking rough when I did the spell. His veins were all black, and stuff. Said he’d been stabbed with a dagger provided by…” Celeste broke off. Every time she mentioned the Emissary, a strange sensation crept up her spine. A mix of concern and curiosity.
“Anyway, your feather worked. So, thank you, again.”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence for the Angel to know who Henry was referring to. “Elfleda,” she spat out. “Comes at me with plants, goes after my… friends… with actual weapons.”
Hutchins was right. It was time for Phanuel to get off the bench and into the game. “Next time, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”
“Thank you,” Celeste replied graciously, smiling despite the mention of Elfleda. “And the same applies to you. Whether it’s cell phones or hangover cures. You know where I am.”
Phanuel realized she’d been standing in the same spot the entire conversation. She reasoned she looked as awkward as she felt. She picked up the bags at her feet by the handles. “I should get these disposed of. What time are you off work? Maybe we could, uh, go phone shopping?”
Celeste checked the time. “I’m free in about an hour. Will you be available then?” She realized this would be the second shopping excursion she made that week, the first being with none other than Penny.
The surreal truth of her own social circle hit her full force. Magic practitioners, vampires, sirens, werewolves, a real life Angel. It was like a campy television show, and she almost laughed out loud. “You can drop that stuff off and come back here,” the brunette suggested.